


Little by Little, Then All at Once

by deliriumbubbles



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 09:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16637699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliriumbubbles/pseuds/deliriumbubbles
Summary: Post "The High Cost of Loathing" AU. Rusty pulls some stitches, and Brock tries to take care of him. But Rusty is being more intractable than usual, and working some finesse and taking a risk, Brock changes things between them irrevocably.





	Little by Little, Then All at Once

**Author's Note:**

  * For [danvssomethingorother](https://archiveofourown.org/users/danvssomethingorother/gifts).



“Ahh, c’mon!”

 

Brock looked up from his paper at the grumpy wailing. Something gotten on the Aviator, or Matador, or whatever Rusty had called that expensive jumpsuit he was wearing these days. It didn’t look that bad. He’d worn worse (that pink one came mind), but it also probably wasn’t worth the concern over spills.

 

A moment later, Brock caught another movement out of the corner of his eye, and between one breath and the next, he jumped to his feet and was beside Rusty where he’d fallen to the floor.

 

“Geez, what did ya do to yourself, now?” Brock spoke the words, but his brain had put it together before he’d finished the sentence. The spreading bloodstain on the thigh of the blue jumpsuit told him a story of pulled stitches.

 

“Off with it,” Brock ordered.

 

“It’s fine, I—“

 

Rusty’s objections were cut off as Brock unbuttoned the suit and rapidly relieved him of his clothes.

 

“Is this _necessary_?”

 

“Stay still.” Brock knelt in front of him and gripped Rusty’s thigh as he examined the stitches. It had been about a week since he’d gotten them in, and his face, and the rest of him, was healing up pretty well. It was just this damn leg injury.

 

Doc was impatient. He’d always been. Sure, he could be needy and attention-grubbing when he was actually sick or injured, but he also couldn’t be bothered to finish healing if he had something on his mind.

 

“Not too bad. I got a first aid kit. I can fix you up.”

 

“I didn’t ask.”

 

Brock lifted Rusty up into his arms and carried him into the bedroom. “How the hell’d you do this, anyway?”

 

“Oh, for goodness sake. I can _walk_. I’ll just put pressure on it and have Billy look at it in the morning.”

 

“No need.” Brock dropped him on the bed and Rusty scowled up at him like a chastised teenager. Reaching into his trunk, Brock dug around for his kit, then reached up and put Rusty’s hand over his inner thigh. “Hold tight here.”

 

“Oh, so you’re _bored enough_ to care about my well-being again?” Rusty rolled his eyes. “Color me shocked. I thought you were just here in the penthouse for the view.”

  
“Knock it off. You know why I’m here.”

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

“You still mad about me not stayin’ with you in the hospital? You could make my job easier, y’know.” Brock took out gauze and alcohol. “Try to jump out fewer windows. At least when I’m not around, hm?”

 

Rusty looked over the supplies curiously. Brock took a bottle of out his hand and put it back, eyeing him suspiciously.

 

“What first-aid kit has local anesthesia?” Rusty demanded.

 

“The kind top OSI officers use. I expanded my skills a little during the year I was back with ‘em. Well, with Sphinx, first. We didn’t have the resources OSI has. Hold still.”

 

Rusty leaned back on his elbows and huffed. Brock ignored him for a moment as he cleaned the wound and got a closer look at the stitches on Rusty’s leg. He reached for some ointment and started to dab it on carefully.

 

“It’s just the one, at the edge. Shouldn’t be a problem, if you’re careful for once. Just gotta keep it clean and don’t _strain yourself_ anymore.”

 

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Rusty said irritably.

 

Brock taped the gauze into place and looked up. “Seriously, what did you _do_? All I see you do these days is go up and down to the lab.”

 

“That _is_ all I do.” Rusty looked away and sighed. “We had another potential arch down in the lobby. I had to dodge what I thought was a laser, or some kind of melting ray—I mean, when you check the tapes, I think you’ll agree that it _looks_ impressive—but it hardly even held up as a flashlight. Sizzled Hatred’s uniform slightly and gave him a slight sunburn on one arm.”

 

Brock flattened his lips and tilted his head to the side.

 

“If you laugh, Brock, I swear to god, you’re fired. It looked _very real_.”

 

Brock nodded slowly, then sat onto the bed beside him. He knew that the suppressed smile was still dancing in his eyes.

 

A soft burst of a laugh from Rusty, and the danger passed. Brock shook his head, and the two of them both gave into it. Not loudly, not hilariously, but just as steam bursting out of a teapot and releasing all that built up pressure.

 

“You really mad I wasn’t there at the hospital?” Brock asked.

 

“Yes. Not that I remember most of it, thanks to the morphine.”

 

Brock shook his head. “No one can get you in a hospital. Guild has pretty strict rules about that. Especially thanks to a couple of protags who had a habit of pulling plugs back in the day.”

 

“It’s not the hospital.” Rusty shivered. “I’m getting a shirt.”

 

“Stay put.” Brock pushed him back onto the bed and went to his dresser to pull out a shirt.

 

“Any shirt of yours would be like a damn dress on me.”

 

“Nah, I got one of Hank’s, somehow. Whatever laundry service you’re using screws up our clothes all the time.”

 

“ _How?_ Your shoulder span is as broad as two of him.”

 

“I can’t wash a single load without turning everything pink, so don’t ask me.”

 

“Just don’t put _red_ in with the _whites_.”

 

“Everything. _Everything_ pink. Ask Shore Leave about it. I wasn’t allowed to do laundry at Sphinx ever.” Brock tossed the shirt at Rusty and walked over to cross his arms. “So it’s not the hospital. You feel like sharing why you want to jump out windows and snap at me for doing my job?”

 

“Nope.”

 

Brock crossed his arms. “You know I’m government. I can read people.”

 

Rusty rolled his eyes as he buttoned the shirt up. “Well, read this. I went off my old meds when _you left us_ , and when we moved here, I started seeing J.J.’s old therapist. You could say that I _did not_ respond well to the new medication. The window thing seemed like _a very good idea_ at the time.”

 

He patted the front of the shirt, which was still loose around the shoulders. “It isn’t like I haven’t jumped out of dozens of windows in my lifetime. I’ve never gotten cut up that badly. Just bad luck.”

 

Brock refrained from commenting on the “old medication” claim. He’d just be glad that the Doc was clean, more or less. “So you’re not taking the new stuff anymore?”

 

“No. Dr. Keynezl visited me in the hospital, and we talked out a different plan.”

 

Brock nodded as he put away his first-aid kid. “And the reason you’re pissed at me?”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Must be pretty bad, if you wanna be passive-aggressive about it.” Brock leaned down to pick Rusty up again. “C’mon, let’s get you settled in front of the TV and I’ll get you some juice.”

 

Rusty swatted Brock’s hand away. “You know, I did fine when you were gone, and I did fine when you were out banging your super-powered girlfriend. I don’t need you to coddle me now that she’s left you, and Dean’s moved out, and Hank is all over the place, and you have _nothing better_ to do.”

 

Brock raised his brows in surprise. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this. The Doc had been spending all of his time working lately, pouring himself into his work at Ven-Tech in a way that Brock hadn’t seen him do for Venture Industries since the boys were little. Their lives had sapped out an essential part of Rusty’s energy, and Brock hadn’t expected to see it come back again.

 

And yet it had, perhaps with a hard push from watching his brother die. Perhaps with a gentle shove from this Dr. Keynezl (who Brock would definitely have investigated through OSI asap, just in case). Whatever the reason, it had been a positive move. Apart from the window.

 

“Fair enough.” Brock put his hands on his hips. “Except ya got one thing wrong. Warriana didn’t dump _me_.”

 

“Oh, fiiine,” Rusty said testily. “Big Man Brock Samson. Pounds _all_ the pussy. Does all the _leaving_.”

 

“You’re not a last resort, Doc. You know when I came back, it wasn’t just for the boys, right? Sure, they were a big part of it, but it’s not just them.”

 

“You don’t owe me anything. I know where your loyalties lie, and it’s fine. It isn’t like all of the members of the original Team Venture were solely devoted to Jonas.” Rusty pushed himself to the edge of the bed.

 

But before he could rise, Brock crouched down in front of him.

 

“Would you _move_?”

 

“Nah.”

 

Brock’s hand moved to the back of Rusty’s neck, and as Brock leaned in, he could see Rusty’s eyes growing round and disbelieving. But he didn’t push him away, and Brock moved deliberately enough and slowly enough that he had plenty of time to do so.

 

“What are you doing?” Rusty demanded. But the fight was gone from his words.

 

Brock said nothing, just leaned in until their faces were close and Rusty’s eyes closed. Their lips touched, and Brock moved his other hand down to Rusty’s waist, slipping his hand around to the man’s back as they kissed. Whiskers tickled Brock’s chin almost pleasantly, and their noses bumped, but neither pulled away from their unhurried explorations.

 

Rusty panted softly when their lips parted and looked up into Brock’s eyes.

 

“When…” He seemed breathless. “When did you figure _that_ out?”

 

“While I was gone.  And again when Warriana and I were trying to have more between us than weird bondage sex.” Brock kissed his lips once more and wrapped both arms around Rusty’s waist. “But you’re the smart one, right? You had this figured out pretty early on, didn’t’cha?”

 

Rusty snorted. “That you’re goddamn attractive? I knew that back college.”

 

“Not that part.”

 

Rusty’s semi-permanent scowl faded just a little. “It was a little bit how you were with the boys. Little bit how you argued about _Led Zeppelin_ with me.” He sighed. “And yeah, _maybe_ the tiniest bit the way you protected us. This isn’t a new thing for me, not even slightly. Forgive me if I’m suspicious that you’ve suddenly come to this conclusion that I’m worth your time.”

 

“Stop being an ass.” Brock pulled Rusty close and rested his head on his narrow shoulder. “And stop doing _stupid shit_ that puts your life in danger!”

 

“That would make your job kind of redundant, wouldn’t it?”

 

“If I was, would you still let me stay here?”

 

Rusty touched Brock’s hair and stroked it gently. “It’s your home as much as mine. Hell, you being here with us is mostly what made it a home to begin with. The compound never felt right without you. We _all_ felt it. Hank just showed it the most.”

 

This time, when Brock lifted Rusty up, he didn’t resist. He took him into the big bedroom and set him gently on the bed.

 

“This thing is absolutely enormous, considering two tiny humans like J.J. and Sally were using it,” Brock said.

 

“ _That_. That is the best, most romantic thing you could’ve brought up, maybe ever.”

 

Brock chuckled. “You replaced the mattress, though, didn’t you?”

 

“ _Yes_. Still.”

 

Brock fluffed some pillows behind Rusty, smiling as the man watched him uncertainly. “You really think I’m jokin’ with you? This is a big put on? Just a coupla guys, pullin’ one over on each other with a big open-mouthed kiss?”

 

“Could happen,” Rusty argued. “Women have tried it with me before. Sheila turned me into a caterpillar.”

 

“Not my endgame here, Doc.” Brock sat on the edge of the bed.

 

Rusty’s lower lip pushed upward, and he narrowed his eyes, as though examining some mutant hybrid he’d accidentally created in his lab. Was it so hard to believe? Especially after admitting that he’d had feelings far longer than Brock was admitting to?

 

Maybe that was the issue.

 

“Just ‘cause I didn’t see it as soon as you did, doesn’t mean this wasn’t already here,” Brock said. “Whenever you’d get jealous, whenever I got too over protected, whenever the boys… y’know. And you’d try to opt out of this life, and I just couldn’t let you. ‘Cause you being out of this life mean no boys, and no _you_ , in mine.”

 

A sly grin started to creep across Rusty’s face. “Jesus, Samson. You’re a big softy.”

 

“Shut the hell up, Doc.”

 

He scooted closer, slipped his arm around Rusty, and kissed him again, this time fiercely. Possessively. With a verve that reached deep into the pit of Brock’s being in a way he’d rarely, if ever, felt in his life.

 

Having to hold back while Rusty healed was a pain in the ass, but there was something tantalizing about finally getting to explore this thing between them that they’d denied and ignored for so many years.

 

Not to mention the Doc was a bit harder to woo than Brock had imagined he’d be. This was definitely going to an entertaining challenge.


End file.
